Bolshoi
by coeurgryffondor
Summary: Erzsi had promised that she would be with him should he ever get the chance to see Bolshoi as it had been again. / RuHun. Written for the reopening of the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow. Perhaps read "But Let it Go" first for this to make the most sense.


**Bolshoi**

In the daylight the building is a pale beige, white columns growing from the ground to end in swirling florals. The fountain before Bolshoi Theatre bubbles with water, and as the wind blows the water sprays a little over Erzsi's face. Her reflection ripples in the disturbed surface before coming up to look over the chariot and horses to the double-headed eagle, a symbol of the Russia that was.

"Nice to see it again," Vanya murmurs behind her, and she knows he's looking at the eagle too. One of his arms wraps around her waist and she leans into him, her head laying against his chest. They go to sit beside one of the smaller fountains, eating the food they had packed and purchased for lunch.

"It's beautiful," Erzsi manages before biting into her varenyk, a dumpling she had become fond of over years spent in Russia. Vanya nods, holding a shashlik he's yet to bite into, smiling fondly at the building.

He's different, somehow, just a little bit changed. To the outside world Ivan is still just as cruel and cold, an imposing force that none dare to challenge. His coat is the same as ever, a newer coat but with the same lines, hiding the body beneath all the same. He's just as tall and large as ever he was.

Erzsi knows he's not. Knows Vanya's become thinner in the absence of sisters constantly cooking for him. He can go out, can travel, can see sites he once loved that were forbidden, and in his happiness he gets so caught up that Vanya simply forgets to eat. He's gone days without realizing it, and Erzsi doesn't know if the thought is saddening or amusing.

"Hey." She reaches out one hand, stroking fringe from his line of vision, and he startles at that. Wide purple eyes of a child find her emerald ones as Erzsi's hand falls down to take his unoccupied one. "What are you thinking about?"

Vanya smiles again, wide, and it makes Erzsi's heart pound to see him so happy. "How many good memories I have here."

They never came to Moscow during the Cold War, during the time of the Soviets. Erzsi never went to that Moscow; it was too dangerous, Vanya never allowed it. Now is only her third time in the city, still in possession of its Soviet facets here and there. She doubts the city will ever fully throw off those remnants.

And as much as she loves the ballet in Leningrad- no, in St. Petersburg- there were still stolen moments under thick blankets before roaring fires, where Vanya would tell her about how amazing Bolshoi Theatre was, about the operas and ballets he used to see there. His face used to light up describing the very first performance of "Swan Lake" or "Giselle", and Erzsi had promised that she would be with him should he ever get the chance to see Bolshoi as it had been again.

Vanya had approached her about it after some world meeting. She'd been sitting on a window seat in the hallway, talking to Feliks, when the Russian nation had sheepishly approached. Behind him Roderich had scoffed and left, because he's still not used to sharing Erzsi with the world. But Lutz had smiled and waved, before Vanya sat, stuttering through something about how Bolshoi Theatre had been renovated and it had taken years and too much money but would she like to come to the opening performance, not that she has to, she could say no, Vanya doesn't control her anymore and is perfectly aware of tha-

Her smile of agreement had shut him up.

He's still gazing fondly, this time at the fountain, so Erzsi goes in to steal a bite of his shashlik. Vanya's become thinner, lighter, freed from his once-heavy burden, but he's also happier, so much happier. They both know his country has problems, that once again Vanya is suspected for association with past governments, but he's not locked up the way he used to be. He's finally free.

"You," he growls as if to be intimidating when he sees the missing bite of meat, but it comes off more comically than was intended and they both laugh. She doesn't even realize he's leaned down until he's kissing her, and Erzsi leans into the simple touch of his soft lips that she's begun to miss. When they break apart they both sigh.

"You taste like vodka," she murmurs, because he always has.

"You taste like my food," and their laughter makes several passersby look up.

* * *

><p>The tsar's box is in the center of the balconies that line the room. The main room fills with excited spectators, and Erzsi can't help but look over the balcony to see who is speaking in quick Russian beneath her. Vanya returns to their seats, which the government has returned to him. All his seats in the various theaters, seats in the tsar's boxes, have been returned to him and she knows it means the world to her Russian companion.<p>

"I like the colors," Erzsi remarks as he removes his outer coat, taking hers as well. Vanya pauses, looking around at the gold and red, restored painstakingly to how it had been. He had helped in restoring the theater, with his knowledge of how the theater had been, and the theater company's knowledge of who Vanya really was. They have pictures of him throughout the years stashed away somewhere, a collection that for too long lacked pictures, they had told Erzsi. But no longer. There had been a pride in that as the man had looked upon Vanya. "They're beautiful," she adds, taking in the room once more.

"Da," Vanya agrees warmly before ducking out once more. Other important diplomats sit in the remaining seats, but Erzsi's seat is in the front row of the box, slightly off center. Vanya always sat to the left of the tsar, so that onlookers saw him on the tsar's right side.

They're dressed for the occasion, and Erzsi had giggled at how excited that had made Vanya. His suit is new, beautiful, the deepest violet possible, with a crisp white shirt and black tie, cufflinks bearing images of ballerianas. Her dress is emerald, the same color Vanya's always picked for her dresses. This time he had said there was a reason, and seeing the red that fills the room Erzsi supposes it's because she stands out from the crowd. Her hands fan the skirt once more, before pulling the violet shawl closer to her collarbones. A warm arm wraps around her side as Vanya sits, kissing her forehead.

"Cold?"

"Missed you."

His smile is so genuine at that that Erzsi forgets how to breathe, knows Vanya could ask for anything in that moment and she would have agreed without hesitation.

"Erzsi?"

"Szeretlek."

This time he steals a kiss willingly given.

* * *

><p>After they stand in the entry way, Vanya talking with officials, Erzsi with their wives. When the hour becomes late and her feet start to hurt, they leave.<p>

"Vanya?" she starts as they wait for some staffer to bring Vanya his car. He wraps his arms around her, handing rubbing her back through her coat. The city is both dark and bright, content, as if it had always been this peaceful.

"Hmm?"

Erzsi smiles up at him. "I'm glad you invited me. Thank you."

In the flashing light of the car coming around a corner, the staffer stepping out and handing the keys to Vanya, who takes them absent-mindedly, she sees his face beam brightly down at her from high above her head. It's the face he used to have, when telling her of Bolshoi Theater before those fires and under those blankets, from years long past. The face that had made her promise to come with him, the face she had hoped he would one day find and never again lose. The face she fell in love with.

"Erzsi?" Vanya whispers, leaning down. Her heart flutters uncontrollably.

"Hmm?"

"Szeretlek."


End file.
